


Verity

by Rosie_Rues



Category: Fairy Tales (trad)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008, recipient:WhiteCat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues





	Verity

The first time Princess Verity rode into the forest was six months after her father had taken the kingdom of Astermark. She was twelve years old and had finally slipped away from her tutors and nursemaids long enough to ride out into the fascinating forest which surrounded King Merit's new capital.

The forest did not disappoint, being full of treacherous paths, mysterious noises in the undergrowth and, Verity discovered all too soon, dangerous beasts. Having successfully escaped the attack of a huge and bad-tempered boar, she found herself quite hopelessly lost. As this was a common occurrence in all the best stories, she wasn't overly perturbed, but continued onwards in the hope of finding somewhere interesting to camp until the rescue party turned up.

However, in the next clearing, she found a boy.

He was obviously a native Astermarcian, rather than one of her people, because his hair was black and his skin brown. He was also a rather skinny and miserable looking boy, in horribly ragged clothing, who seemed to be very busy digging at the earth at the side of the clearing.

"What are you doing?" Verity demanded.

He jumped and then said, rather nervously, "I'm making bricks."

"Why?"

"Because I need them," he said. "I have to build a tower. What are you doing here? Nobody's allowed to come here."

"I'm allowed to go everywhere," Verity boasted, which wasn't quite true. She certainly wasn't allowed in the throneroom when her father's council was in session, and her older brother Patriot had thrashed her last time he caught her spying on him and Lady Halcyon behind the stables.

"Oh," the boy said, looking more miserable than ever. "I'm not. I have to stay here."

"That's stupid," said Verity, sliding off her horse. "What's your name?"

The boy studied her dubiously for a while. Then he said, "Zel."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't think it means anything," Zel said.

"Names have to mean something," Verity said. "Otherwise they're no use."

"What's your name, then?" Zel asked.

"Verity," she said. "It means I'm expected to tell the truth all the time, which is really, really inconvenient."

Zel laughed and then blinked a little, as if he wasn't used to the sound.

"Do you want some help?" Verity asked. Digging up earth looked pretty boring, but she thought she was probably much stronger and healthier than Zel was, so she could at least help him finish so he could do something more interesting.

"Thank you," he said. "But I have to do it myself. That's how the spell works."

"You're under a spell?" Verity asked, instantly fascinated. "Is it a wicked spell? Would you like me to break it for you? I'm going to be a hero in a few years time, so it would be good practice for me."

"A witch put it on me after she killed my father," Zel said, his voice very calm. "And in a few years time, when I'm big enough, I'm going to kill her. So I don't need your help, but thank you for offering."

Verity nodded eagerly. She understood a vow like that, and was rather impressed that someone as feeble-looking as Zel was determined to keep it. There was obviously more to him than first met the eye. Perhaps he was a magician or particularly wise.

That reminded her of her own problems and she asked, "Do you know anywhere round here where I could shelter for the night? I'm awfully lost."

"Well, you could stay here," Zel offered. "But the city is only an hour's ride due east."

"Oh," said Verity. "Well, I should be going, then. Good luck with your digging."

#

Of course, when she got home there was a frightful row, involving everyone from her weeping nurse to her coldly furious father, with a few snide comments thrown in from Lady Clemency, the Court Sorceress. Verity was confined to the palace for weeks before she could creep out to see Zel again.

His pile of bricks was much higher now, and his diggings were beginning to form a shallow ditch around the edge of his clearing. Verity jumped over it and peppered him with questions about how his kiln worked.

Over the next few years she saw him often. He wouldn't let her help him with his task, but she got quite good at collecting firewood and stealing him food from the palace kitchens. He stayed small and skinny, but he was interesting, and that was enough to keep her coming back. Give him a problem and he'd find three times more solutions than she could, and he understood the books she brought him far better than she did.

Early on she discovered that he had no idea how to wield a sword, which was going to be quite a problem when he finally managed to confront the wicked witch. Verity, who was the youngest and least important of King Merit's children, was quite proficient with a blade by then. Her brothers Pat and Dare were there as heirs and her sisters Dulcet and Euphony were proper ladies, well-equipped to charm the princes of neighbouring lands. Nobody cared that the youngest princess trained with the guard, swore like a sailor and would rather spend her days in the saddle than the drawing room.

Zel was a good pupil. He lacked her strength, but he was fast, and became more of a worthy opponent every time she saw him. She almost regretted lending him her books of fencing theory once he started trouncing her in almost half their matches.

About two years after they first met, he finally declared that he had enough bricks. As there were several thousand stacked up on the island in the middle of his clearing, along with a goodly load of planks, Verity wasn't too surprised.

"What are you going to use to stick them together?" she asked. She'd been watching the masons who were adding the new wing to the palace, and had a clear idea of what was involved in this sort of work.

Zel gave her a quick, wicked grin and murmured, "Magic!" Then he picked up two bricks and pressed them together. They stuck with a little squelchy sound.

"What if the spell fails?" Verity asked, waving her hands in the air. "And how long have you been able to do magic? Can you break the spell and run away?"

"I did think of that myself," Zel retorted. "So, no, I can't break it, not until she's dead. And this is the only way I've got to bind the bricks. She taught me the spell and I'm very sure she won't want me escaping. It'll hold."

"Hmm," Verity said, wondering if she could smuggle a few buckets of mortar out here without anyone noticing. Was there a way to stop it from setting too quickly? "You could use more clay. At least that's sticky, and the thing might not collapse on your head one night."

"Maybe both," Zel said thoughtfully. "More work, though."

"Worth it," Verity said firmly, and took up his spade. "If it's not in her plan, there's nothing to stop me helping, is there?"

#

The next time she visited, the tower was a foot high, a strong, red square in the centre of the clearing. Zel was working over the other side, so she walked around the edge of the moat, frowning a little.

By the time she came level with him, she was worried.

"You've forgotten to leave a space for the door," she called.

He looked up, smiling in delight. "Verity! How lovely to see you!"

"Where's your door?" she asked again. He was only charming when he was trying to distract her.

He sighed and stood up properly, rolling his shoulders out. "There's not going to be a door."

"You're building yourself into the tower," she said flatly.

"That's how the spell works," he told her, his mouth twisting bitterly.

"Are there even going to be any windows?"

"At the top. Twenty feet up."

"I'll need to bring you a twenty-five foot rope, then," she said. "You'll need the extra length to tether it."

"I won't be able to climb out. The spell-"

"I know," she said impatiently. "But I'll be able to climb in. I know it's not the traditional answer, but your hair is far too short and, frankly, too greasy."

"You're still going to visit?" he asked and there was something transparent and painful on his face which made her heart hurt.

"Course I am," she said gruffly. "I'm not going to lose my best sparring partner now."

#

Unfortunately, the youngest princess' purchase of a very sturdy rope did not go unnoticed in the city. To Verity's horror, she suddenly found her behaviour, language and appearance under an unprecedented amount of scrutiny. She attributed this to her oldest sister's recent marriage and her own sudden step nearer to significance. Knowing where to put the blame, however, did not make the experience any less unpleasant.

It was almost a month before the fuss died down enough for her to go back into the forest.

The tower was taller than her now, and Zel was busy laying boards across its top. Verity chucked him the end of the rope and scrambled up to join him. From here she could just see the gilded tops of the palace towers above the trees.

"You'll have a view," she said encouragingly.

"It'll be taller by the time I finish," he said, putting his hammer down and stretching.

"Maybe I'll be able to see it from my window," she said. "Put a signal mirror on top so you can tell me what supplies you need before I set out."

"I think the witch might notice that," he said wryly.

"Why does she keep you here anyway?" Verity asked abruptly. She'd always refrained before, but now he was building himself _into_ a tower and it just wasn't right. "Isn't that something which happens to the stupidest type of princess?"

He shot her a look, and muttered, "You're an expert on princesses, are you?"

After the lectures of the last few weeks, that was the last straw, so she snapped, "More than you are! You've never seen a proper princess in your life!"

"Yes, I have," he said seriously, and Verity felt a sudden twist in her stomach. The wind was beginning to rise, sighing through the forest and stirring the air around them.

"When?" she demanded, because she'd never backed down from a fight in her life and she didn't know how to avoid the truth when it was within arm's reach.

"Before I came here," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "There were princesses then. Lots of them."

"How did _you_ meet lots of princesses?"

He smiled at her, and she remembered how unhappy he had been the first time she saw him. "I was a prince."

"You're not," she said, taking a small step backwards, across the top of the tower. She knew all the royalty of the surrounding kingdoms, and there were no stories of lost of stolen princes, no dead heirs who might come back to life.

"Not any more," he agreed. "I think I'm probably supposed to be king now my father is dead."

"King of where?" Verity whispered, taking another step back. Her mind was whirling through stories she had heard - of princesses trapped out of time or in eternal slumber.

"King of Astermark."

"Merit is king of Astermark," she told him.

Zel's face twisted suddenly. "Merit's witch killed my father. Merit ordered her to keep me here. After I kill her, I'm going to kill Merit."

"No!" Verity said, and took another step away from him. Her heel came down on empty air and, with a shriek, she fell off the side of the tower.

She landed in the muddy moat hard enough to knock all the air out of her lungs. By the time she managed to crawl to her knees, Zel was leaning over the edge of the tower, shouting her name with increasing anxiety.

"He didn't!" she gasped at him as soon as she could breathe. "He doesn't have a witch and he didn't put you in there!"

Zel shook his head. "Verity, I know he's your king, but that doesn't make him a good man."

"He's not my king!" she shouted up at him, feeling the panic blossom in her chest because she should have guessed this, should have guessed it years ago. "He's my father!"

And with that she ran, hurling herself through the woods, branches slapping against her face and forcing tears from her eyes.

#

She didn't go back. Instead, she threw herself into her studies, learning everything she could about the history of Astermark and the surrounding lands. She studied geography and philosophy and diplomacy, and forced herself to master not merely the sword but strategy and tactics and trickery as well.

Along the way, she read the account of the death of the old king of Astermark, how he had terrorised his people and wasted his country's wealth. _See,_ she imagined herself saying to Zel. _He deserved it. He's not worth your vengeance. You're better than him._

But by now she knew that there were people who would call her own father a tyrant, and the Zel in her head just turned away sadly.

There were a few lines in one of the books which stated, bland and factual, that Crown Prince Radunzel of Astermark had been killed in the revolution. She wondered then about the witch she knew existed; the one who supposedly served her father.

As she got older, it seemed less and less explicable that Zel was alive. If her father really was truly ruthless, he should have killed Zel long ago. There was no reason for Merit to keep a possible challenger to his throne hidden away so close.

Two years after she fled the tower, her father invaded the Kingdom of Lassamel to the east. There was a need for a member of the royal family to be with the army, to reassure the people, and Verity volunteered at once.

Lassamel was followed by Handale and Kellaria and Yartapan. Verity discovered that she had a talent for war: for seeing how to solve a problem or crack a defence, how to deploy troops with the least loss of life. Once the generals started to respect her, she took to leading the army herself, crashing into battle in a blaze of rage and violence.

Off the field, she was polite and restrained, willing to listen to reasonable demands, but not easily fooled. Conquered kings loathed and respected her in equal measures. She soon discovered, to her distaste, that the people of Astermark adored their golden-haired warrior princess.

She never thought of going home.

After five years, her brother Dare came looking for her.

He had grown lean and quiet since she last saw him, as sharp, in his own way, as her blade. She was as pleased to see him as she was surprised - she had always liked him best of all her siblings. Pat was the heir, big and brave and brash, but Dare was the clever one.

"Come home," he said to her. "I need someone to look honestly at the court."

"Why?" she asked, startled. She had never been any use at court.

"Something's wrong," he told her, pacing up and down her tent. "I won't tell you what I suspect - I need you to look at it afresh. But come, please."

"At least tell me who I need to be looking at," she asked.

He stilled for a moment, glaring out into the desert night. Then he said, very softly, "Clemency."

"The sorceress?!" Verity said. "But she doesn't do anything! She just sits and looks pretty and pretends to be kind."

He shrugged at her. "I'm not saying anything more."

The next day she strapped on her sword, left instructions with her generals, and rode home with her brother.

The first thing she noticed when she got home was how _old_ her father had become. His eyes were dim, his voice sometimes faded, and he seemed to struggle to follow discussions. When she left home he had been a grizzled but tough warrior - this was a startlingly swift decline.

The second thing she noticed was that Lady Clemency never left his side. The sorceress had always been around to advise the king on magic, but now she was constantly murmuring in his ear.

There was more - a uneasiness in the atmosphere of the court that made it seem a little too shrill and frivolous, a sense that she was always being watched, the sullen attitudes of the townspeople as she rode in.

It only took her two days before she sought Dare out. They rode out of the city, into the edge of the forest, and she poured out everything she had noticed.

Dare's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you," he said, dropping his face into his hands. "Thank you. No one else has noticed and I was started to think I was the crazy one. It's like their brains just couldn't see it."

"Magic can do that," she said, thinking of a boy building himself into a prison tower. Then it all came together, and she gasped, "Not a witch! A sorceress!"

"What?" Dare said.

"Stay here!" she snapped at him. "Don't do anything. There's someone I have to see!"

She'd kneed her horse into motion, ignoring Dare as he yelled after her.

The tower was finished now, square and dark and as tall as the surrounding trees. The moat had filled with water, which lapped against the grassy bank as she rode round the edge of the clearing, squinting up to find a window.

There was only one, facing south with a rim below it. Verity stood up in her stirrups and bellowed, "Zel!"

The birds in the surrounding trees went fluttering away, but no one replied from inside. Annoyed, she yelled again, "Zel! Prince Radunzel! Zel, you idiot, it's me!"

And, she watched, her heart in her throat, as someone leaned out of the window above.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, Verity squinting up and Zel's hands clenched around his windowsill.

Then Zel said, his voice cracking, " _Verity?_ "

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Been a while. Sorry."

He flailed a hand at her and then disappeared back into the tower. Verity called out, "Zel?"

Then a rope came spinning out towards her. She caught the end of it with a cheer and swung out of her saddle to fasten it to a nearby tree. Then she climbed up as quickly as she could. Going up a rope hand-over-hand was never fun, but at least this time she wasn't wearing armour and no one was firing at her. At the top of the rope, Zel reached out to pull her in.

Once she was in, she stood up, looking at him. He was still lean, but it looked like strength and grace now, and he was inches taller than her. His hair had grown into black waves tied at his nape, and his face had hollowed out into something fierce and proud. There were smudges of ink on his fingers, and he was staring at her as if she was a miracle.

All at once, she realised two things. Firstly, he was handsome beyond belief, and secondly, she had missed him more than she ever realised.

"Zel," she said and stumbled forward.

His arms went around her and either she kissed him or he kissed her, but they were clinging together, breathless and tearful.

"You came back," he breathed into her neck. "You finally came back."

"I'm sorry," she gasped back, her hands sliding inside his shirt. "I'm so sorry."

He swayed back a little then, taking deep breaths. "Why _did_ you come back? Verity, stop that - I can't think."

"That was the idea," she grumbled, resting her head against his shoulder. "I think I've worked it all out. I just need the missing pieces."

"Worked what out?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and pressing another kiss to her forehead. She sighed reluctantly and stepped away from him. There was a good chance he wasn't going to be happy about what she had to say, and she already tangled things up.

"The witch who keeps you here? Is she called Clemency?"

"Yes," he said, meeting her gaze.

She took a breath. "I can't promise you that my father isn't involved in your imprisonment. That said, I am his warleader now, and I know his methods. He wouldn't lock you up here to linger - he would have either killed you outright or found some way to disinherit you. He's not one for half-measures."

"So?" he said, his expression cooling.

"So this is the work of the sorceress, if I'm right. She has a reason for keeping you here. Just how much does she control you, Zel?"

"I can't leave the tower, however hard I try. I can't raise my hand against her. She's forced me to tell her the truth a few times." Then, as she nodded, he paled. "She could control my actions- Verity, have you come here to kill me?"

"No!" she snarled. "No, just to find out - I'm going to try to fix this, and when I do, I'll get you out of here. I swear."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

She paced, thinking. "I don't think so. I need to tell my brother, get my father on his own, come up with a plan."

"You need to go, then," he said.

She nodded reluctantly. "I'll come back. Tomorrow if I can." Then, because she desperately wanted to, she kissed him again, slow and hungry and full of promises she wasn't sure she could keep.

#

The first thing she said to Dare when she got back was, "She's been keeping Prince Radunzel of Astermark under a geas of obedience for the last ten years."

"Have you killed him yet?" her brother asked.

"No, and I won't. He doesn't deserve it."

"What were you planning to do about him, then?" Dare demanded, his face grim in the evening light. "A threat like that..."

"Actually," Verity said, tossing her head. "I was intending to marry him. Let's find Father now."

But even once Dare had stopped spluttering protests, they could not find the king. They wandered through the palace for hours, checking every room and chamber where he could have been. By midnight, their minds were foggy, and the halls seemed to be sliding around them, echoing and haunted.

"She's getting to us now," Dare whispered.

"She has to sleep eventually," Verity muttered back. "There's two of us - we can outwait her. You sleep now, and I'll keep looking."

But by the time breakfast was served, she still hadn't managed to track her father down. Yawning, she went to wake Dare.

"Sleep eight hours," he advised. "I'll wake you then if I haven't succeeded."

"I have to see Zel, first," she said. "He needs to be warned. Then I'll sleep."

#

She got to the tower quickly, and dismounted, shouting for Zel. The rope came spinning out of the window and she started to climb quickly, already anticipating the feel of his arms around her, warm and thrilling and perfect.

She had to scramble onto the windowsill herself, to her disappointment, but she was leaning in before she realised something was wrong.

"Princess," said the Sorceress Clemency, standing in front of her and smiling thinly.

Verity went for her sword, but before she could get to it the sorceress stepped forward and pushed her out.

As she plummeted towards the ground, Verity just had time to realise that this was going to hurt a lot more than it had when she was twelve.

Then she hit the water and everything went dark.

#

An unknown time later, she heard Dare calling her name, his voice frightened and desperate, and gentle hands moving her. Everything hurt.

"Zel!" she gasped. "Dare!"

"I'm here," Dare said and a hand squeezed hers hard. "Don't try to move. We're getting a stretcher to take you home."

"She pushed me," she managed.

"Ssh," he said and then, very quietly by her ear. "We're not alone. Be careful."

She lost consciousness again on the jolting journey back to the palace. When she next woke, everything was still dark but she was in a bed and warm and she could hear someone breathing nearby.

"Dare?" she whispered.

"I'm here," he said.

"I can't see," she told him, trying not to panic.

"You've got a pretty bad concussion." She could hear the worry in his voice. "Cracked ribs, broken arm, bruising. What happened?"

"Clemency pushed me out of the tower," she said, shaping her words carefully. Even her jaw felt lumpish and unwieldy.

"Damn," he said. "She knows we suspect, I am sure of it."

"Father-"

"I tried to tell him. It was as if he didn't hear my words."

"She tried to kill me. Can't we challenge her on that?"

"If Father won't hear us, we'll have to do it before the whole court. You have the right, but with no evidence, it would have to be single combat. You're not fit."

"There is evidence," she whispered. "There's Zel."

There was a long silence. Then Dare said, voice gentle, "Your horse dragged you out of the water and came back to the palace. It led us to you. By the time I found you, the tower had collapsed. It was as if nothing was holding it together. All that was left was a pile of bricks. No one could have survived that. I'm sorry."

This was worse than blindness, and she clenched her fists until her nails cut into her palms. Dare kissed her forehead and left, giving her the privacy she needed to weep.

#

It was a week before her sight started to come back, and even then it was only grey blurs. By the time she could see clearly enough to leave her bed, she felt weak and sluggish. Even staggering downstairs to the practise ring exhausted her.

Dare found her slumped on a bench, squinting towards two red blurs she thought must be a sparring match. The clangs and shouts she could hear seemed to indicate as much.

"How are you?" he asked.

She shrugged, not wanting to admit just how terrible she felt. "I'll do. Any luck with Father?"

"No." He sighed. "She'll have to make a move soon."

"Why?" Verity said. "Everything we've tried so far has failed. Why should she worry?"

"There must be something we can do."

"There is," she said, staggering to her feet. "Fight me."

"What? You can't see and you can barely stand."

"Which is why I need the practise. Fight me, Dare, please."

#

The practice helped her regain her strength, though she hadn't layered bruises on bruises like this for years. Her sight was infuriatingly slow to improve, but bit by bit, colours and details returned to her.

The day she managed to disarm Dare five times out of five she decided she was better.

"I'll challenge her tonight."

He shook his head at her, and now she could see the worried shadows under his eyes. "Tomorrow. Rest so your strength is at full."

It was hard to sleep that night, with worry about Clemency's plans chasing grief and anger around her mind. The next morning she dressed as if for battle, pulling on her mail and surcoat with a sudden, familiar sense of purpose. She was the king's warleader, his sword arm, and she would defend him whether he asked or not. If she focussed on that, she could put her own feelings aside.

When her sword belt clicked shut, she felt like herself again, for the first time in weeks.

She stalked down through the palace, watching the servants and courtiers scatter around her. Her cloak billowed and her armoured feet rang against the polished floors as she approached the doors to her father's court.

"Princess," the guard on the door said, bowing.

"I come as a plaintiff," she said as clearly as she could. "Grant me entry."

The guards swung both doors open, a privilege only granted to royalty. Verity walked in, fixing her eyes on the throne on the dais, and the elegant woman who stood behind its, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

The crowd of commoners and petty noblemen who usually sought redress at these courts parted before her, and the hall fell silent as she marched to the foot of the dais.

She dropped to one knee before the throne, bowing her head. "My king, I seek justice."

"Speak," her father said, his voice puzzled and quavering.

"I accuse the Sorceress Clemency of an attempt on my life. Furthermore, I accuse her of conspiracy against the crown, the misuse of magic, and foul treason. I demand redress."

"Verity," her father said, leaning forward, his face unhappy. "This is ridiculous."

"I demand redress," she said again.

"Do you have evidence to present?" he asked.

"Only my own sworn word."

"Then there is no case to present, daughter."

"I have combat right," she said.

"No," the king said, shaking his head too much. "No, no, no."

She stood, staring straight across into his eyes. "I do not lie, my king."

"Verity," he said, pleading.

"Yes," she replied. "I am. Grant me my rights."

He didn't answer, and she glared past him at the smirking sorceress. The father she had known would never have been so indecisive. This was ill work.

Then Dare yelled from the crowd, "She's owed combat right!"

"Or you have proclaimed to the nation that my word is worthless and my honour forfeit," Verity said loudly. "I have the right to prove my accusation."

"Combat right!" Dare shouted again.

Pat, seated beside their father, stirred uneasily and said, "Can't really impugn her honour, eh, sir."

Verity kept her gaze locked on Clemency's face, thinking with all the fury in her, _You bewitched my father, you betrayed my kingdom and you murdered my lover. This ends today._

There was an increasing rumbling of discontent from the crowd, but Verity just kept glaring. Nothing beyond this challenge mattered.

Then Clemency dropped her gaze. She leaned forward to whisper in the king's ear.

"The Lady Clemency is not as skilled at arms as Princess Verity," the king said. "She proposes that she put forward a champion."

Verity thought about it. However much she wanted to hurt Clemency, she wouldn't even have the chance to fight if her father was against it. She was confident that she could defeat any of the knights here, even weakened as she was. She had already done enough to cast permanent doubt on the sorceress. Defeating her champion would finish the job, even if it was less satisfying.

"This is acceptable," she said.

Lady Clemency straightened again, a small smile of triumph gracing her face. "Name your time and place, princess."

"Here and now," Verity said flatly. "Before you can sow any more poison. Bid your champion prepare."

It took a while to set up a duelling square in the centre of the court, long enough for Verity to confer with Dare.

"I don't trust her," Dare muttered, acting as her squire. "She's too happy about this."

"I know," Verity said, glancing across to the other side of the court. Clemency's champion was all in black, already in his helm. The only identifying mark on him was the crest on his shield, a red tower on black. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," Dare said. "I've never either seen the crest before, and every decent swordsman I know of in the court is accounted for. Be careful of him. You're still not strong."

"I'm strong enough," she said, and set her helmet over her hair. Her vision immediately narrowed. Dare took her cloak off and she walked out into the court, placing herself in the starting point.

A few moments later the Black Knight walked out to join her. They bowed to each other and then drew their swords, waiting for the signal.

When it came he moved at once, lunging forward. She swung her blade up to meet him, thinking, _Damn, he's fast!_ Then the fight was on, feint and thrust and clash, and she was hard-pressed to do anything but defend herself.

Too soon, her knees began to buckle and her vision to blur. She had to end this soon, before she fought herself into exhaustion. Reckless, she lashed out and caught him across the side, under the edge of his breastplate. Sparks spat off his armour and her sword ploughed through his mail.

He cried out in pain, and she froze, recognising his voice.

That moment's hesitation cost her dear, for she wasn't ready when he came back at her with greater speed and force. Her sword was jarred from her hand and he forced her down, one foot on her chest as he lifted his sword.

Behind him, Verity could see Lady Clemency, her face distorted with glee. In that moment, she understood all.

Praying he would forgive her when all this was over, she swung one armoured foot up and kicked him in the balls.

The Black Knight doubled over with a wheeze of pain, dropping his sword. Verity grabbed it from midair and rolled to her knees, hurling it point first across the court.

It plunged into the sorceress with a sound like breaking glass. Clemency screamed and then, to Verity's horror, began to shrivel, her skin turning grey until it fell off her bones in rotten ribbons. Then the bones collapsed down into a pile of silk and slime.

"Hold your positions!" the king snapped, and Verity realised that every guard in the room had gone for his sword.

Her father rose from his throne, storming down from the dais towards her with more energy than she had seen from him since she came back. He marched across the court and then stood glowering down at her.

"Daughter," he growled, and then proffered her a hand. "Get up. Royalty does not greet victory on its knees."

He pulled her up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, turning her to face the court. "Let it be known that my daughter has saved this nation from its most dangerous enemy. For years, we have been held in thrall by foul sorcery. Now, at last we are free."

"Dare helped," Verity whispered as the court erupted in cheers. _This_ was her father.

"And he'll have credit for it too," King Merit replied. "Now, let's deal with this last traitor."

He held up his hand for silence, and then turned to the Black Knight, who was still slumped on the floor, one hand pressed to his bleeding side.

"Name yourself and explain your part in this conspiracy, so that you may be judged."

The knight reached up and removed his helmet, dropping it down on the floor with a dull clang.

"Sir," said Zel. "I have been captive under a geas to the sorceress for ten years, that could only be released by her death. Your daughter has saved me too."

"Can this be verified?" King Merit demanded.

"Yes!" Verity cried over the pounding of her heart. She hadn't quite been certain until she saw his face. "I verify it! I've known him since I was twelve!"

She got a cool, thoughtful look for that, and had no doubt that there would be a private lecture in her future. Here and now, though, her father just said, "And do you have a name, young captive?"

Zel looked up at him. "I was born Radunzel, prince of Astermark."

A quiver of excitement went round the court. King Merit rubbed his chin, his eyes thoughtful. Then he said, "Huh. I was told you were dead. It was damned inconvenient. It would have saved a lot of trouble if I could have gone with the original plan and married you to one of my girls."

"Sir," Zel said in his politest tones. "Nothing would please me more."

"He was a prince under a magic spell," Verity rushed out before her father could refuse. "And I _rescued_ him! Please, Father!"

King Merit looked between them. Then he flung back his head and roared with laughter. "Who am I," he demanded, "to stand in the way of a fairytale!"

And so they lived happily ever after, although Zel did complain that they might never have children after Verity's last blow, and Verity was sometimes known to give too honest an opinion on her husband's flaws. All in all, however, they lived well and met a good end, and what more can any king or beggar in the world ask than that?

  



End file.
